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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24288352">fly by (baby let's not try)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tantivy/pseuds/tantivy'>tantivy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternian Empire, Basically Kanaya's aware that her superior officers are crazy, F/F, Flirting, Imperial Fleet AU - Freeform, Internal Monologue, Multi, Quadrant Vacillation, Rainbow Drinkers, Sewing, She goes by Rohese Llonde, Tailoring, Temporary Character Death (Referenced), Troll Rose Lalonde, but she's into that and she regrets it deeply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:41:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24288352</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tantivy/pseuds/tantivy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>So getting revealed as a rainbowdrinker because of some mishap might not have been the best thing to happen to your absolutely budding career as a Jade cavernkeeper, but it's not the worst thing to happen to you ever. Getting posted to this particular ship, however, <i>is</i> the worst thing to happen to you ever, and that's including your insane superior officers flirting with you while you have <i>absolutely no clue how to flirt back</i>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kanaya Maryam/Vriska Serket, Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam, Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam/Vriska Serket, Rose Lalonde/Vriska Serket</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Homestuck Polyswap 2020 - Derse</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>fly by (baby let's not try)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanu_Kai/gifts">Tanu_Kai</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>"Oh my lovely badass ladies. &lt;3/&lt;3&lt; Would adore anything with these three as a tangle of black/red flipping. Troll Rose, maybe in an Alternia or Fleetside AU? Or more canon-ish set on the meteor, or post-sburb or really, anything.</p><p>Again, no humanstuck please ;;"</p><p> </p><p>I started this over three times in a row! Everything kept turning into Kanaya's internal monologue about her attractively insane (and insanely attractive) bosses, and after the third round I decided to just, you know, roll with it...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"O Captain, my captain," you mutter under your breath, adding another row of stay stitches to reinforce where you think the most wear and tear will be. "Wherefore art thou, my captain—"</p><p>"You're mixing memes again," cuts in another voice, the tone of it almost sharp enough to slice into you. "Maryam, if you can't focus, I'm <em>sure</em> our dear Captain would be happy to give you some kind of incentive."</p><p>"And you're slipping," you retort, eyes on the piece in front of you. Commander Vriska Serket—superior officer and bane of your existence—is one of your most frequent visitors, and given the amount of hell she puts her clothes through, one might assume that she'd know better than to harangue you when you're carrying something sharp and working on a piece meant for her. "What incentive could I possibly need but the reward of knowing I've served the Empire with a job well done?"</p><p>Her eyes gleam, the cerulean pupil a sharp challenge to the yellow sclera around it, and you wait for her to posture or prance or challenge in some other way, for her to push you, for—</p><p>The door swings open, and there is your threatened <em>incentive</em>. There were several things to be said about your "dear Captain", and while many of them could be considered good, her goodness wasn't usually on offer to those sent in disgrace. An assignment to the <em>Brilliance and Light</em> came in one of two ways: A stepping stone, to jump from one position into a much higher rank after a decent course of service aboard; or a punishment, to those who had brought the Empire's wrath down upon their heads.</p><p>You fell, unfortunately, into the category of the second, given that you hadn't had the decency to die when some mad raider of a troll had crept their way into the caverns and had a go at stabbing you. No, no, it had all been very quick, very tidy, very hush hush—apparently, the Empire wasn't that found of word getting out about the whole <em>rainbowdrinker</em> thing being a bit more than a myth. Whoops.</p><p>So they'd sent you here, to the careful watch of one Rohese Llonde, known throughout the entire godsdamn fleet for being one of <em>the</em> worst Captains to serve under, for reasons unnumbered, untold, unknown.</p><p> </p><p>You were getting dramatic. That was a thing that being around Rohese Llonde did to trolls. You'd <em>documented</em> it.</p><p> </p><p>"Special Lieutenant Maryam," Llonde says, and you pretend not to notice the way her voice drags over your frayed nerves like the silken material you've only put to us for her most special requests. You absolutely do not spend any time at all stroking over it and wondering what it must feel like when it's tight to her skin. "I see you're...occupied, at the moment. Shall I return at a later date? A more appropriate time?"</p><p>They planned this. You're almost certain of it.</p><p>This is why you turn on your charm, a soft and lovely smile and all the grace expected of a jadeblood. "I'm certain I can squeeze you in, Captain Llonde. It is, of course, your ship."</p><p> </p><p>Sometimes it's hard to tell if you've outwitted your two opponents or played right into their hands. You'd like to think you're getting better at it, but half the time that you actually win, you're pretty sure they turn things on a half-caegar and start making shit up as they go along instead. It would explain a lot about this ship, really, and even more about your place in it.</p><p>Right now, you're leaning towards the opinion of "<em>this is a making shit up as they go time"</em>, and you think you'd win money off of that bet.</p><p> </p><p>Llonde closes the door behind herself, a quiet little <em>snick</em> that has you questioning the prize you thought you'd win. There are many things to be said about your captain, and while most of them lean towards the good—her competence is legendary, she's one of the craftiest trolls in the known universe, even amongst her hemotype she'd set herself apart, and at such a young age too—you've been as privy to the bad as anyone else. She was a perfectionist to a nigh painful degree, and she expected as much out of her crew; coupled with the fact that she was a walking disaster, it was anyone's guess how a night would play out. Her penchant for interrogating the deepest facts of a troll's mind on a mere whim was as destructive as it was useful (she'd reduced several visiting captains to tears, ferreted out secrets no one else saw coming, and turned spies into allies as easy as blinking), and what was worse, she had the violet blood necessary to get away with doing it.</p><p>Not to mention that her ship itself was run with the kind of ruthless efficiency that had nearly everyone popping a wiggly at the thought of her pitch quad. Even if it hadn't been for the vicious wit she used to back it up, she would've had more pitch solicitations than a goddamn quadmance novel.</p><p>And also, she was firmly tied to her First Mate, one Vriska Serket, walking terror and equally large disaster. <em>How</em> they kept each other in line was anyone's guess (extra true, no one had a clue what quadrant they'd settled in), and now, well...</p><p>Now they were playing games with you.</p><p> </p><p>Damn. You've been distracted a little too long, and now they're both staring, and you haven't even gotten to mentally paint the shape of Vriska in your mind the way you usually like to. Okay. </p><p>Time to play offence. "Yes?" The query comes out as nearly an accusation, and you delicately pluck fastening pointsticks from the humorous stuffing-filled splatterfuit-shaped object strapped to your wrist. "Did you have a particular question for me, or request of me, Captain, while I was in the middle of doing the Empire's work as commissioned by the First Mate of this vessel?"</p><p>For a moment, you think Llonde scowls.</p><p>Then Serket steps into the breach, and you have several regrets—you'd never met her personally before this assignment, but you were well-acquainted with her one-time FLARPing partner, Terezi Pyrope, and you'd apparently been a point of contention between the two. Serket had wanted to know where Pyrope acquired all the costumes and suchlike she wore during normal play and upon special occasions, and Pyrope hadn't wanted to give up her source (for fear, apparently, that Vriska would "ruin shit"). Their miniature feud over that had never landed <em>directly</em> at your doorstep, but by several (likely biased) accounts, Serket was a specific type of flapbeastshit, and you weren't curious to see how accurate those accounts might actually be.</p><p>Well. Not yet, at any rate.</p><p>And you've gotten distracted again. You know this because someone's in your space, and staring down at you like they're caught halfway between curious to see how long it takes you to notice and furious that you haven't picked up on it already. Instead of wavering, quavering, or even trying for a smartass remark, you give a decisive little nod and tie off a knot on the piece in front of you, as if you'd been struck with quiet contemplation the whole time.</p><p>"You know," Serket says, her tone so companionable that you're <em>sure</em> she's not addressing you. "If we keep this up, no one's going to win the bet. I say we call it and haul her back to your block."</p><p>Llonde makes a noise, and you go deadly still. What? "Commander."</p><p>"What? Okay, fine. We can use my block. Or hers. I'm not exactly picky, here."</p><p>"'Not picky' is certainly one way of putting it," Llonde says, and you are very certain that the blush spreading across your skin is visible to everyone in this room. You are <em>very</em> certain that you could set a minor fire, or perhaps give a seadweller some light burns. "I thought we'd agreed to keep up a minimum of decorum? If only for appearance's sake."</p><p>"It's been aaaaaaaages, Rohese! And she barely even pays attention to us when we <em>are</em> here, do you really think giving her even more space is going to—"</p><p>"Oh, I've got a feeling she pays more attention that she's been letting on," Llonde interrupts, and wow, you are on fire, you are literally bursting into flames. Or at least you really wish you were. "Isn't that right, Kanaya?"</p><p>Seriously. Spontaneous combustion would be great right about now. "That's—that's a bit forward, don't you think?"</p><p>Serket's eyes gleam in a way that makes you want to cross your legs. "Really now? Cap, you're starting to make me wish I hadn't promised you I'd ease off on the nonconsensual mind invasions."</p><p>"That's a lie, dear, and I only made you promise that with regards to the crew." Llonde pauses, as if remembering a scant few saboteurs the two of them have had to deal with. Fuck. Shit. She probably actually is. "Most of the crew, and even then, it was warranted under fleet guidelines."</p><p>"Booooooooring."</p><p>"Perhaps if you're lucky our own dear Special Lieutenant will consent."</p><p>You are going to expire at any moment and then they'll be sorry. Left to clean up your poor dead corpse <em>and</em> handle the paperwork <em>and</em> explain to the fleet how they'd managed to kill off a supposedly undead and unkillable rainbowdrinker. See how they liked it then. The fleet would probably make them write a <em>research paper</em>.</p><p>Of course, actually managing to be so eloquent outside the confines of your own thinkpan is out of the question. Instead, you say something more like "Mglhf," and are treated to a front row seat as they take in the hue of your skin, as their attempts at the typical expressions lofty highblood blankness grow...predatory.</p><p>"Well now," Captain Llonde says. "Perhaps she might."</p><p>With no other recourse left to you, you push to standing (and it's like shoving your way through distilled sweet arboreal sap, it really is), your face still burning jade. "Buy me dinner first," you inform them both, then shove out of your working block as swiftly as you can.</p><p> </p><p>You think it's worked out rather well for you, really. Even when Serket realizes that you've left her standing there in a garment covered in pins and needles and shouts as much at your retreating backside. Let her shout! You know she's still staring.</p><p>Score one (<em>finally</em>) Kanaya Maryam.</p>
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